Dragon Haven
by Kilometers
Summary: Eragon and Saphira left Alagaësia to find a paradise for raising the new dragons and Riders. Yet, as the new order is established, challenges personal and universal remain... what of their friends? And enemies?  First fanfic! ExA, NxM, SxF later on!
1. Prologue

**Kvetha, Fricäya!**

**I just finished the Inheritance Cycle and was left heartbroken with the bittersweet finale... so while Mr. Paolini works his way back to Alagaësia in the (hopefully near) future I, like many, wish to fill the void with a continuation of the stories and journeys of these beloved characters.**

**As this is my first fanfic it may not be the greatest thing you ever read, but hopefully once the pace picks up and I have the direction all laid out, it will be an enjoyable read! Reviews are most welcome and highly appreciated, especially if I miss something important to staying in canon. Suggestions and ideas are welcome for now as well, until such a time should arise when I know exactly what I want to do with every piece of this story. Updates will likely be infrequent at first.**

**Anywho, enough chit-chat. You came here to read about Eragon, and that's what you're going to do.**

**Enjoy!**

**-kms**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Prologue<strong>

The Talíta gently glided its way through the river Edda as it meandered across the plains to the far east of the land of Alagaësia. As the stars continued to shine their familiar light upon the ship, the sun's brightness was visibly warming the skies ahead. Gradually a small range of mountains became visible as the sun's rays began to crawl through the peaks and spill out onto the plains before the ship.

A monstrously large, magnificent blue-scaled creature flew lazily in circles about four hundred feet above the Talíta. Upon its back, near the base of the creatures long, powerful neck, sat a lone rider. Lightly grasping a thick, lightly-hued neck spike for balance, the man's youth emanated from his visage despite the battle-hardened features that betrayed only subtle – but grim all the same – hints of loss and unfathomable grief.

On the deck of the ship stood a half dozen slender elves, keeping watch but otherwise motionless and noiseless. Beneath the deck were just over a dozen more, most of which sleeping or meditating – all wary of any sudden noises or movements that may indicate danger for their precious cargo.

The river began to straighten out as it neared the mountains, and the sun climbed far enough above them to light the Talíta's way through a narrow river valley. After only a few sharp bends in the calm waterway, the mountains surrounding the ship and its passengers shrunk away and they sailed headlong into a serene, sparkling blue expanse of water that went on for as far as the eye – human or elf – could see…

…Save for one stationary blip dotting the horizon, which appeared so insignificant from their current distance that it might have merely been a trick of the sun, which was now just over an hour away from shining down on the ship from directly above.

The blue-scaled creature let out a deafening roar before soaring through the air towards the speck on the horizon, with its rider clinging to its neck spike firmly. As several of the elves below deck joined their companions above, one of them – sporting dark blue fur and yellow eyes – glided towards the front of the boat with catlike agility, entranced by the sight.

Filled with anticipation, he cast a subdued, inquisitive thought towards the flying pair.

_What do you see, Shadeslayer? Brightscales?_

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><p>Eragon blinked and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun, which had risen unopposed by any clouds or meddling weather conditions that morning. His eyes strained to see the horizon, as he had not rested them well over the course of the last week. Sleepless though he was, his strength of vision was akin to the elves', and he quickly adjusted to the light as the final sheer cliff face of the small mountain range they had passed through fell behind them.<p>

_Little one, there is something ahead,_ chimed the equally weary dragon Saphira, whose reflective blue scales seemed only to amplify in beauty as they flew over the deep, shimmering waters of what appeared to be an ocean expanding outwards before them.

Eragon saw it only moments after she did – a distant disturbance in the otherwise perfectly smooth horizon. Were the horizon they looked upon captured on a fairth, it looked as if someone had flicked a small speck of dark ink onto a space between the sea and the sky. Even as he stared Eragon felt as though he could reach and and wipe it away with a careful hand movement.

_I see it too, Saphira. Do you think…_

_…it is land worthy of our cause?_ she finished the question even as it brewed in his mind, demonstrating once more the strength of their unfathomably intimate mental bond. As dragon and Rider, it was only natural that their fated closeness would unite their very thoughts at times.

As if to further her answer, Saphira let out a fierce roar and flapped her massive, translucent blue wings in an attempt to gain altitude. Once at a comfortable height, she felt a strong current of air that she used to further propel herself forward towards the impurity on the otherwise clear horizon.

Eragon lurched forward and gripped her neck spike closely, suddenly alert and excited. Until now all they had seen on the week's journey were endless plains with only a few small hills rolling about here and there. Having left what he presumed to be the entire continent behind he felt unusually ecstatic; free of the mundane surroundings they had sailed and flown across, they were now fast approaching what might just be an unprecedented land mass where they could settle.

As excitement and anticipation flooded the mental link between him and Saphira, a familiar presence inquired: _What do you see, Shadeslayer? Brightscales?_

Recognizing it as the elf spellcaster Blödhgarm – whose choice appearance consisted of wolf fangs (as indeed, his name in the Ancient Language translated to "Blood Wolf"), yellow hawk eyes and dark blue fur like that of a forest cat – Eragon responded merely by opening his mind to let the elf see what he and Saphira were seeing as they approached what they could now confirm to be a mass of land, not one hour away from the ship.

As Eragon and Saphira drew closer they could see an unblemished horizon of sea and sky beyond a short mountainous terrain that seemed to enclose the island on all sides, save for the pristine sandy shore that opened towards the continent they had left behind minutes ago.

Finally Saphira stopped, as from their height and distance the island could be seen in full. The mountains that enclosed most of the island were shorter than those of Eragon's birthplace in the range known as the Spine, save for two massive peaks that cornered at the northeastern and southeastern tips of the island. These two mountains stood at least twice as tall as those immediately below them, and immediately Eragon felt a sense of satisfaction, which Saphira echoed.

They estimated that the island must be roughly ten leagues wide on all sides; while it was not a perfect circle, it was unusual that such a formation could naturally be formed so similarly to one. The mountain range that acted as the backbone of the island was as wide as three leagues towards the eastern side, and as thin as one league on the northern and southern sides. Between the rocky cartilage of the earth was a vast sea of dark, rippling green forest, with a small lake in the northwest, fed by a thin river carved out of the sandy western shore. Interrupting the dense forest in slight splotches were fields of lighter green sprawling over rolling hills, with the occasional plateau overlooking the fields and forests below. Eragon thought he could make out the slow-moving shapes of various herd animals on the fields – a sight which Saphira eagerly gazed at herself for nearly a full minute, treading air with great anticipation.

_We shall land and scout the island for dangers; from magic to natural phenomena. What you are seeing is most formidable... Land and rest while we sail to join you._

Tense with excitement, Eragon jumped as Blödhgarm's message rang in his mind. He had almost forgotten they had shared the vision. He felt the elf's presence withdraw from his mind with a sudden, purposeful spark.

"I think… this might be it," said Eragon aloud, prompting a deep, gleeful hum from Saphira.

She folded in her wings suddenly, and dove – plummeting towards the sandy yellow shore, she spoke, barely able to contain her joy: _Dangers or no, this haven of an island appears more suitable than anything I had imagined we would find!_

_This certainly shows promise. Be wary of the forces of nature as you make your presence known here. However, I can sense no immediate issue… should this island become our new home, my kin and I would like to share some of our hopes and ideas for it with you._ The deep, warm voice of Glaedr penetrated their minds politely, warming their hearts with the relief that seemed to course through his thoughts like the warmth of the sun shining down on their bodies. The golden dragon's Eldunarí – heart of hearts – lay in a protected pack strapped to Saphira's saddle.

Eragon acknowledged the idea politely, smiling wearily as the wind from their dive tore at his skin. Saphira shot her wings out at the last second, levelling out, and her body shuddered as they slammed down onto the soft sand of the beach.

_Saphira, I think you named this island perfectly, _said Eragon, smiling more broadly as he dismounted his saddle and sat upon her crouched front leg. He stared at the sand below, almost timidly.

_Hmm? I do not recall offering any suggestion,_ she responded with a tone of confusion. Gentle waves lapped at the edges of the beach, and the sails of the Talíta could be seen on the western horizon.

_Haven. It is a natural haven and shelter, and shall become even more so in due time… a haven for the rebirth of the dragons and the Riders… Dragon Haven._

Saphira hummed with proud approval as he leaped off of her knee and landed in the soft, moist sand below.


	2. Long Time Longing

**Here we are again, far sooner than I expected... I'll try not to get your hopes up though; this was more of an exercise in procrastination that may or may not be repeated!**

**I'm also blown away by the amount of reads and reviews this has gotten already. It's inspiring, and I hope I can live up to your expectations!**

**EDIT: I've revised the content of this chapter a little bit to compensate for a few small issues that readers have pointed out, and to correct some things that bother me as well or I just want to improve (seeing as this chapter was written well past a reasonable bedtime) before continuing. Thanks for the input! I promise to do more self-revision in the future before posting!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Long Time Longing<strong>

Eragon paused in the midst of his meal, allowing the ethereal sound of elven singing and mead-induced friendly banter ring in his sensitive ears. He cast his gaze around the long living-oak table, committing the elves' unusually joyous expressions to memory as they sang and conversed politely. While they were certainly far from the dwarven standards of drunkenness, the mead that coursed through many of them had temporarily lifted their eerily impassive demeanours.

He allowed himself a ghost of a smile as he sipped from his goblet and reflected upon the events of the last year. They were celebrating two things: first, the completion of the buildings on the islands' centermost plateau, which would act as Dragon Haven's main hub – a headquarters of sorts. And second, Saphira was noticeably pregnant and it would only be a matter of days before her egg would be under the elves' watch in the nesting hall next door. Afterwards she would continue to hunt and assist construction, both physical and magical, while checking in on her egg every so often.

All of the massive halls and quarters littering the plateau consisted of a combination of architectural techniques. Out of fondness and remembrance of the elves' natural treehouses in Ellesméra, they had sung many massive oaks out of the hard earth of the plateau. The hardy trees made up the outer structure of the building, and their thick branches provided rooms and flooring on the upper levels of the main hall. The hall itself, tall and wide enough to house nearly two dragons of Shruikan's size, was sculpted out of thick stone, whose ornate carvings and arches resembled the underground structures housing the dwarves of the Boer Mountains. The hall faced eastwards so as to allow the sun to shine through the open leafy canopies of the trees, whose branches mingled above the structure. The eastern mountains shielded the open, arched entryway to the main hall from the glare of sunrise – preventing it from blinding those who gathered at the table for breakfast some one hundred feet inside.

As night dimmed the feasting hall from above, lanterns lining the walls gradually lit up with red werelights – coordinating their intensity with the fading intensity of the sun's natural light so as to create the illusion that the lightning had not changed. The sky above betrayed this, however, as through the towering trees' leafy branches, stars flickered in and out of view.

Eragon had been very open to the ideas the Eldunarí had to offer, and found himself agreeing or improving upon their ideas more often than not. The partially open ceilings had been the dragons' idea, allowing more freedom for young dragons to come and go from the landings that literally branched through the stone walls, not too far above the polished floors of the main hall. While it was an open concept, Eragon had been careful to provide enough privacy for residents and visitors as well. While open archways twenty-five feet high led from one room to the next, there were enough feet of stone or oak branch ceiling before the openings above to shelter and provide a sense of enclosed security.

Blödhgarm and a dozen other spellweaving elves had protected the open ceilings from the weather with wards that also reducing the effect of the lights and noise that would emanate from within the halls, so that at night the rest of the plateau's inhabitants would not be disturbed by the roaring of dragons or blinding lights of festivities. Satisfied with the basic structure and the natural freedom it provided, Eragon opted to name the hall Thràndurin Hall, after his former mentor Oromis. Glaedr was particularly pleased with this idea, and from within his Eldunarí he assisted Eragon in engraving dark, golden runes into the entryway arch, finalizing the name of the future Riders' new home.

Eragon's private quarters in the upper branches of the hall greatly resembled his old treehouse in Ellésmera, however he had also sung out a cavernous office of sorts within the thirty-foot thick trunk of the tree. It was through this more official room that one had to pass before arriving in his chambers. Otherwise, there was a wooden landing supported by the western stone wall beneath, where a sizeable dragon could fly up to from outside or rest upon.

The dozens of other smaller, more uniform hollows in the winding tree branches and trunks above the main floor were unoccupied and would serve as residences for Eragon's student Riders.

He set his goblet down with a soft click, and caught the eye of a relatively young male elf casually staring at him from the middle of the lengthy table. His piercing grey eyes told Eragon that he was eager for something, but containing his excitement. It bothered Eragon that he did not yet know all the elves that had travelled with him - while he know knew quite well the 9 that had originally acted as his and Saphira's bodyguards, duty, training, and a need to be left alone had otherwise occupied his time. He had sparred with a few on occasion but could not remember their names, if they had ever shared them. If he ever needed speak with an elf it was usually Blödhgarm or - if he was unavailable - Yaela, one of the others who had been his original guards. His frequent consultation with Blödhgarm had deepened their camaraderie into a professional friendship of sorts that at least provided the illusion that Eragon was still capable of socializing.

He suddenly felt very self-conscious sitting at the head of table, even though Saphira lay perched not fifteen feet above him, on an immense stone window ledge decorated with blue gems. He acknowledged the elf's grey-eyed glance with a slight smiling nod, and the elf turned away to continue a conversation with a chuckling, rosy-cheeked male across from him.

As the meatless feast was cleared, Eragon addressed the line of twenty elves before him. Among them at the opposite end of the table, Blödhgarm bared his fangs in a proud smirk. As the dull roar of conversation died down, Eragon began, electing to speak in the Ancient Language:

"Friends, it has been a short year since our arrival here in Dragon Haven. It is with my deepest and humblest gratitude that I congratulate your efforts in assisting the development of a new home for the Dragon Rider order."

Waking from an overfed slumber, Saphira hummed from above as the elves politely looked to him for more. Just like that, it was as if the mead had been drained from their bodies and the effects all but forgotten. It was an unnerving sight, making it difficult for Eragon to discern whether they were looks of respect, awe, or simply facades that shielded annoyance at his relatively inexperienced tongue. He continued, trying not to think about the fact that almost all of them more than tripled his life experience in years.

"As we further establish a home on this island I am sure there will soon be new Riders in our midst, and we must be prepared to accommodate their presence and begin their training. Blödhgarm, if you would have the Council meet with me at dawn to discuss matters regarding the instruction and care of the Riders that come to us," he nodded at the animal-like spellweaver, who nodded back with a sly grin.

With that, the congregation before him began making to leave, and Eragon fought a sudden wave of fatigue as he stood from his ornate wooden chair.

_I'm going upstairs,_ he told Saphira.

_Little one… you have been in a grim mood all day. What ails you?_

_I said I'm going upstairs._ He closed off their connection to make his point, and he bade farewell to the elves as they casually departed the hall for their own abodes.

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><p>Eragon ascended a stone staircase set against the back wall of the hall, passing two landings before stopping at the top. He followed the tunnel of a hallway through the trunk of one of the trees to a large, polished wooden door inlaid with blue gemstones and carved runes that spelled his various titles across the arch.<p>

He entered his nearly-vacant office, a large, spherical hollow within the trunk of a tree that featured a semi-circular stone table in the middle, surrounded by seven solid chairs carved out of pine. Behind the largest of these chairs was another doorway, with a much more plain and uninviting wooden door set into it. The private, windowed room he now called his own lay beyond.

As he passed through the solid door without touching it, he heard Saphira land on the wooden balcony outside with unusual tenderness. Walking towards the bed that lay between two windows, he allowed it to catch him as he fell backwards onto it. Through a sizeable opening in the thick branch making up his ceiling he looked up at the stars, flickering in and out of view as the oak leaves swayed in the gentle breeze.

_It has already been a year, and I still cannot rest my mind._

Saphira poked her neck into the room through the arched doorway to the balcony, noting Eragon's position. As he re-opened his mind, she dared a gentle thought: _Little one?_

_I'm sorry, Saphira. It's been one year and we still haven't hatched any of the eggs. No one has come for us, either. And every time I look out upon these new friends of ours, I cannot tell whether they appreciate my leadership role or would rather I left here forever, too._

_It is in their nature to appear this way, you know that._

There was silence, both verbally and mentally, until she sensed a great wave of despair overcome him, threatening to depress her as well. _That is not all that worries you. You are still troubled by our departure?_

…_You could say that._ He sat up slowly, fixing his eyes instead on a fairth mounted on the wall across from the bed. Though he had not yet lit a werelight in the torch, his elf-like vision allowed him to make out every detail of the image in the starlight.

Saphira glanced at it and snorted. _I have not seen this one before. You were busy during my hunt, I take it?_

It was a rhetorical question and he did not respond, only continuing to stare at the golden brown fairth.

An inch-wide border decorated with runes in the Ancient Language surrounded the image. The runes wove intricately and seamlessly throughout the border, almost as if it were a single word. An endless word that would go on forever, no matter the direction it took. Upon closer inspection, Saphira could read it: "two Riders, two Shadeslayers, two friends," repeated all around.

The image itself was breathtaking. It was a panoramic view of Dragon Haven, similar to how Eragon and Saphira had both first witnessed it. The island could be seen in its entirety, with a half inch of ocean caught between the northern and southern mountains and the border of the fairth. The western beach seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, as the sun was just rising and only a sliver could be seen peeping over the mountains that backed the eastern coast of the island. It was enough to bathe the front half of the island in sunlight while the half closer to the mountain remained in the shade. At the border of light and darkness, upon a central plateau in one of the larger plains, Thrándurin Hall and the surrounding buildings could only just be seen.

The two corner peaks of the mountains that towered above the rest seemed to frame the top part of the image. Just above the rising sun were the silhouettes of two dragons, riding side by side, with two Riders atop them, barely visible from that distance.

Eragon quietly uttered a stream of words in the Ancient Language, and to Saphira's surprise the image began to swirl with colour.

The sun lit up first with a deep, radiant yellow that then bled over the mountains, turning them a dark, shadowed brown. The forests and fields below soon followed, the colour green spreading like a stain. From the center of the image the colour spread outwards, blueing the sea and the sky, browning the mountains, yellowing the sparkling shores, and illuminating the border with a deep gold. The runes becan to glow in vibrant blues and greens, which then slithered along the words like a smooth, coloured serpent. Finally, the silhouettes above the sun grew in size slightly as the dragons flew in front of the sun and faced the viewer of the fairth. As they moved, colour stole into them as well – revealing the sparkling blues of Saphira and the shimmering greens of Fírnen. Atop Saphira, Eragon hoisted Brisingr in the air in a joyful shout as he stared at the Rider atop Fírnen. Arya returned his gaze with a similar expression of joy, Támerlein raised as if ready to strike.

Saphira was silent for several seconds before she began keening quietly. Eragon whispered more words and the colour faded as the image returned to its original state. He fell forwards on the edge of his bed, hunched with his elbows on his knees as the spell's energy requirement took its toll. A single tear rolled down his angular cheek and dotted the wood below with a dark splotch. He took a long, shuddering breath before saying aloud, "You too, huh?"

_Little one, you surely have not forgotten the physical reminder of Fírnen I carry within me? While yes, we dragons tend to mate more than once, I cannot help but feel a longing for him the way you long for her._

Eragon considered this, and stood up, turning away from the fairth to touch his head to Saphira's snout.

She continued: _I notice you wrote "two friends" and not "four"._

"I liked the way the letters flowed together without mentioning the dragons..." he blurted, sheepish.

There was silence for a minute.

"Sometimes… sometimes I wonder whether we really had to leave. Just because some old dragon bones said so, doesn't mean…" he paused, conflicting feelings paralyzing his thoughts.

_You still have magic, Eragon. Why must you insist on refraining from scrying her, or anyone for that matter?_ asked Saphira, hoping to change his mind about the decision he had made on the journey to Dragon Haven.

"No," he stated flatly, "we left with a purpose in mind and if I tease myself with sounds and sights of my friends without actually being in their presence, it would only madden me."

_You forget that you are already sleepless even without that,_ she quipped.

Frustrated, he began pacing the room before once more feeling a wave of exhaustion surge through his body. Resorting to a less demanding method of communication, he continued the conversation mentally as he sank back into the cushioned safety of his bed.

_You may be right, but… I simply cannot. Especially not with her._

_What of Nasuada? Orik? Or Roran? s_he persisted.

_We've said our goodbyes, and now we're here for a specific purpose. They know that when they have Riders ready to send our way they will be able to send them straight to us – we've marked the way clearly enough with magic._

_You cannot do this to yourself… to us… forever. I wish I could put it all behind me as well, but that is simply not the case. Eventually we will have to communicate with those in Alagaësia somehow. They will understand if it takes a while, but as soon as there is a new Rider in our midst there will be no excuse for your stubbornness._ She snorted and pulled her head out of his room, but maintained close contact with his mind.

Once it was clear that he did not intend to reply, she withdrew enough to focus on the laborious task of sleeping comfortably while pregnant – harder for a dragon than it might sound.

Eragon gave the fairth a final longing glance before disrobing slightly and lying on his back to stare at the stars once more. If he squirmed a bit to see further around the edge of the window in the ceiling, he could see a sliver of the moon attempting to outshine the stars, numerous though they were. Somehow the dark calm of nighttime coupled with the thought-piercing brightness of the stars and the moon was a soothing remedy for Eragon's thoughts. The inner turmoil abated, if only slightly, as he continued staring skywards.

_She's right,_ he thought to himself, careful not to give Saphira the smug sense of satisfaction she would adopt once he caved into her logic.

_But we haven't seen a Rider yet. Until then, all we can do is wait and keep trying to hatch the dragon eggs that we have. Blödhgarm reported that they've been squirming in their shells for months, but so far none have hatched. Has something happened? What if Saphira's egg acts the same way? What will I do with them once they hatch? They will have no Riders! Can we afford to raise wild dragons?_

These questions and more flooded his mind once more, and he had to concentrate on discerning the shapes on the moon's surface to ignore them. Only once the moon had all but passed by the ceiling window did he fall back into his tormented waking dreams once more.

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><p><strong><strong>I apologize for the lengthy descriptions... I always found that (for the first few books, at least) Paolini went over the top with his descriptive imagery. However, in becoming the writer, I realize that a lot if seems necessary to properly create the world in the reader's mind. This will probably be the lengthiest of descriptions, at least until some more foreign travel becomes involved!<strong>**

****I 'scryed' some other Inheritance fanfics and found that there a lot of repetitive ideas and events between fanfics... so I'm going to try to be original, or at least execute the ideas I have in unique, interesting ways. Yes, this will likely become EragonXArya, however as Arya is such a surprisingly difficult character to work with, I doubt there will be much in the way of fluff, at least for a long time to come, and certainly no lemons - not my thing, sorry!****

****Thanks again for any and all feedback! It's a pleasure to have an audience for my writing, even if the content does not belong to me!****

****-kms****


	3. Reality Check

**Welcome back!**

**This is proving to be a bigger project than I imagined... BUT I know pretty much where I want to take this story now. The hard part will be getting there and making sure everything is just right along the way. This should be fun!**

**Try listening to the Eragon movie soundtrack while reading. While yes, the movie is unspeakably terrible as an adaptation, the soundtrack is actually pretty sweet. I do this with other fanfics and it makes them so much more fun to read!**

**Also, I updated the previous chapter based on reviews pointing out simple canonical errors (such as the number of elves with him, and which of those that were named came with him - NOT Laufin, for example) and added a few little bits to deepen understanding. I lent out my copy of Inheritance so I'm having a hard time pinning down some of these minor details without the book to reference directly, but I am trying my best to verify my claims.**

**Thanks for the feedback (keep up the constructive critiquing, please!) and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Reality Check<strong>

_Malicious, charcoal-coloured clouds packed the sky, bathing the earth below in swirling shadows. Lightning streaked across them in great chains, as if parts of an enormous spider's web were flashing in the light with anticipation of its next catch – and kill._

_In the sky between the tallest peaks of Dragon Haven a pale turquoise creature of monstrous size flapped its thick, leathery wings. Treading air, it reared back and released a deafening, eerie shriek before facing down towards the lush island. From its massive, bony jaws, thick waves of white-hot flames shot towards the earth. Above the thunderclaps and whistling winds, a chorus of screams and shouts could be heard._

_In minutes the island lay burning – flooded with white flames that devoured every inch of forest, grassland, building, village, and mountainside. Even the lakes and rivers appeared to be burning, swamped by the girth of the fires around them. The scene appeared eerily distant as it took on a black-and-white effect. The only visible colour at a distance was the pale dragon whose jets of flame never ceased to pour from its maw._

_Perched arrogantly on its back was a tall, handsome figure with tangled maroon hair and rugged, fiery red eyes. His angular, catlike facial features resembled that of an elf, yet the fire in his eyes and his prominent smirk suggested simpler heritage. A dark red goatee stuck out from his pale, pointed chin as his mouth opened in a deep, twisted laugh that seemed to drown out the fading wails of the island's inhabitants as well as the wind and thunder that surrounded him. The dragon ceased its fiery downpour._

_The clouds lit up, appearing translucent for a split second, and the electric web flashed sequentially towards the center of the scene, above the crazed pair who reaped the island of all life. The electric lightshow converged and a single, thick bolt of lightning sprang slowly from the cloud downwards. The event suddenly seemed to be progressing in slow-motion; seconds turning into minutes and so on. The bolt fell in a jagged line towards the dragon and rider, threatening to envelop them in an instantaneous stream of pure, natural energy._

_In the split second that the light engulfed their figures, the image of the hideous turquoise dragon flickered almost too fast to be noticed, replacing it temporarily with that of a nobler, leaner dragon with sparkling sea-green scales. In an instant the new image was gone and the visage of the cruel, pale, deformed dragon could be seen once more._

_Similarly, the appearance of the man on its back flickered momentarily – the few changes being to the colour of his eyes, hair, and skin, as well as his expression. His now brown hair appeared thicker and slightly neater, and his eyes were no longer disturbingly red… but a peculiar mix of brown and green. Not quite hazel, but not quite solid either way. In them a fire burned, but a fire of determination rather than bloodlust. His skin was no longer pale but a healthy beige, tanned almost to a light golden-brown. Together with his sea-green dragon, they radiated serenity and calmness while appearing fierce and just._

_The corners of the man's mouth twitched in a confident smile, and an instant later the image was gone and he appeared malevolent as ever with his pale skin and red features. The lightning closed around the two and whited out the scene as an eruption of noise crackled from above._

_The image of the rider flickered vividly in memory… It was then that it became clear that he bore a striking resemblance to–_

Eragon bolted upright, nearly launching himself out of his bed with the momentum from his shock. As he regained his wits, he felt his damp garments clinging to him through his chilled sweat. He wiped his brow, trying to understand what he had just dreamt.

He had experienced dreams of prophetic nature before, however none had appeared as vividly as this. Dragon Haven… had been burning. He had felt sweltering waves of heat, life forces dwindling in terrified states of agony, and he had heard the piercing screaming that confirmed the reality of events within the dream. And he had seen the disturbing details of both the dragon and the rider.

But most importantly he could see the rider's face flashing in his memory – not only the pale-faced picture of evil, but the image of the young man that held so much vitality and promise. He could have sworn he looked exactly like–

_Eragon! What is the matter now?_

Saphira had sensed his troubled mind, as he had awoken without capping his racing mind. She must have seen something of the nightmare as he recounted it to himself, although the sense of panicked inquiry suggested otherwise. _Perhaps it would be best if I kept this to myself for the time being_, he thought to himself, stemming the tide of his thoughts and emotions.

_Nothing, just a rather strange dream that forced me awake, _he replied. He expected to see her snout peek into his room, however he could not sense her presence in the immediate vicinity. He could have probed the area with his mind but instead simply asked, _Where are you?_

_Little one… I have something I wish to show you._

He sensed a great deal of pride and excitement coursing through their mental bond. He needed only wonder at it for a second, then:

…_No! While I was sleeping?_

_Indeed,_ she huffed with amusement.

_Where?_

_I have brought it to the nesting hall – where else?_

_I'm on my way, _he said, allowing her glee and satisfaction to flow through him.

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><p>He soon forgot all about his vision as he dressed appropriately but comfortably for the day. Neglecting to magically remove his stubble, he opted to avoid the long trek through the hall and down the stairs and instead ran through the doorway to the balcony. He launched himself forwards off of the edge, freefalling towards the grass alongside Thrándurin Hall's southern wall of amalgamated stone and tree.<p>

Using magic he deadened the speed of his fall as he neared the ground, allowing him to gracefully step down into the short, soft grass and sprint uninterrupted towards the towering building two hundred feet away, directly opposite Thrándurin Hall on the plateau. He did not care to glance around the rest of the open courtyard-like square that he passed through – he merely barrelled onwards towards the nesting hall, anticipation threatening to overwork his furiously beating heart.

He passed through the high, open arch and sighted Saphira lying down, curled up as if to protect something precious, in the first alcove on the left of the hall. While it was slightly smaller than Thrándurin Hall, the elves' eye for beauty in nature had not left it untouched. The main floor and outer walls were polished stone, like most of the buildings making up the acropolis that had been developed. However, everything above ground was wood – the inner walls, rooms, steps, and second story landings.

The room straight down the hall from the entrance was actually insulated with a thick layer of stone, and within it Eragon knew there lay a stockpile of two hundred and forty-one eggs of various colours and sizes. Despite the protection the walls afforded them, Eragon could sense even from that distance the relatively small beings that were the hatchlings within them. And in a room hidden directly beneath, about fifty feet underground, the one hundred and thirty-six Eldunarí from the Vault of Souls – along with the hundreds more that had been in Galbatorix's possession – lay resting, observing, and healing their kin.

The total number of Eldunarí they had recovered from Urû'baen after the former king's defeat amounted to four hundred and ninety. While all of them had become fatally violent and hostile due to their corruption during and confusion following their release, nearly four hundred had now been subdued and at least partially restored by their peers. Help was also common from Eragon, Saphira, Blödhgarm, and two or three older, more experienced elves who well remembered times of peace in Alagaësia, long before the Riders' fall at the hands of Galbatorix. Glaedr spent much of his time now with the rest of his Eldunarí companions, attempting to relieve the confused inner turmoil of the most hardened dragons.

The metallic, dragon-headed humanoid construct housing the Eldunarí of Cuaroc once again kept vigil over his Eldunarí companions in the hidden room – similar to his time in the Vault of Souls. In the egg hall above this hidden room, two elves were to watch and care for the eggs at all times. In the event that one of them hatched, they would be transferred to one of the semi-private alcoves off of the main hallway, where they could safely rest and be looked after when not outside hunting or flying.

It was a hotly debated topic among the seven-person Dragon Haven Rider Council as to whether it was wise to raise the wild dragons in such partial captivity, even briefly. However, it was by majority vote amongst all twenty-one non-dragon inhabitants of the island – including Eragon's (and therefore Saphira's) – that they hesitantly agreed that it would be best to make the hatchlings aware of the presence and importance of the creatures and caretakers through gentle introduction and gradual developmental aid. It had been difficult to sway the argument in their favour, but Eragon had argued that this way there would be reduced hostilities between the hundreds of dragons destined to live in the wild and the twenty-six currently fated to hatch for a Rider – as well as the people inhabiting the island.

Eragon approached Saphira in the nearest alcove, the floor of which was lined with a layer of earth and pulled grass and leaves. The massive window provided a magnificent view of the northern mountains and the forests that lay beneath them. Above, the blue sky was littered with cottony strands of cloud. And as if to complete the majesty of the image before him, Saphira was humming. It was a deep, ethereal sound that always sparked a sense of wonder and amazement within him, and this time was no different. In fact, it sounded to Eragon like her happiest song yet.

As he walked around her flank and neared the tip of her snout, he saw it – a polished blue-green stone that glistened with lifelike intensity, furthered by the light reflecting off of Saphira's beautiful blue scales. Eragon knew it was no rock, for he had mistaken Saphira's egg for one back in the Spine and his home in Carvahall before she hatched. The egg now lying in Saphira's protection appeared to be nearly twice the size of her egg as it had appeared to Eragon. He stood there gazing at the blue-green egg, paralyzed by a mix of joy and awe as Saphira continued singing to her future offspring.

Finally Eragon felt words return to his mind, and he managed, "Nuanen…"

_That it is, little one… and there is even greater news to be shared._ As they connected their mental link even further, Eragon was overwhelmed by a giddy, relieved sensation. Never before had he experienced from her that kind of feeling to that extent, not even during their reunions following Eragon's solo ventures back from Helgrind and to Farthen Dûr.

"What is it, Saphira? You're shaking!" he said, chuckling as he noticed her tail twitching rather violently.

_Little one… this hatchling is to be paired with a Rider. _She stilled with the release of this information and was silent, anticipating his reaction.

Once more Eragon was awestruck to the point of speechlessness. He sank to his knees in recognition of how much this fact meant to Saphira – that eventually she would be training her own child. As happy tears spilled from his eyes, he knelt and touched his forehead to the egg. It was smooth and warm, and through the shell he felt the undeniable presence of a dormant being, ferocious and serene and majestic. On an impulse, he formed a sentence in his mind.

In the Ancient Language he spoke, aloud and mentally, "Kvetha, fricai. Atra esterní ono thelduin, skulblaka". While not a particularly unique blessing, he felt that he had been able to convey it with a loving sincerity that would express for him what he could not express in words. The egg seemed to grow hot at his words, and he slowly lifted himself away from it, smiling.

"When will you allow us to keep it with the others in the storage room?" he asked Saphira.

_I would lay here for an eternity if I could, urging him to hatch so I may witness his birth and growth._

"You know it's a male already?"

_I can sense his mind, although I cannot reach into it. Even if I could I would leave him be so as not to influence him before he has a chance to witness the world himself._ She began humming again as Eragon paused, thoughtful.

_Is it normal for dragons to feel so attached to their offspring? I was under the impression that there was not as strong a sense of family as this…_

Hearing his thoughts, Saphira paused as well before responding. _I cannot say for sure whether this is normal. From what I have seen of the Eldunarí's memories, offspring have been cared for somewhat passively, without active assistance in hunting or flying, but from afar – I suppose it would be best to say they have been watched and protected but little more._

_But you feel strongly about him, don't you?_

She was uneasy about the implied irregularity of the situation. _Yes, I do. I feel a need to care for him almost as your family cared for you as you grew into the boy who discovered my egg. I feel a need to care for him as any human mother should, and I feel as if I owe it to Fírnen…_ she stopped, a sudden realization derailing her current train of thought. _I want him to know… I need him to know._

Eragon was quiet for a few minutes, thoughts racing once more. Last night he had privately acknowledged the truth in Saphira's wisdom – he could not withhold communication with his friends any longer. As much as it pained him to imagine seeing them so artificially, he knew he was on the verge of ignoring his duty in stubbornly refusing to scry with them. As he had agreed, he had enchanted mirrors for Orik and Nasuada with which they could scry him as they pleased, under the condition that he be allowed to settle and contact them first. It was his way of avoiding the inevitable, painful conversations that would plague the rest of his long life. Now though he was beginning to realize he was only making it harder for everyone.

Arya had not asked for such a mirror, although he suspected she would not have objected. In the end he neglected to give her one, only so that his final farewell would feel as true as possible. Saphira's mention of Fírnen was now beginning to make him regret this decision.

The Urgal war chief Nar Garzhvog had not requested one either, although that was just as well to Eragon.

The two that he had enchanted he had linked to both of his own: one hanging on the wall to the left of the fairth, towards the balcony, and one on a movable stand to be placed in his office during meetings. He had used neither of them so far, although some Council elves had proposed meeting to communicate with Nasuada about the state of affairs in Alagaësia. While Eragon had persuaded them to wait until Riders were sent to Dragon Haven, he knew he would be hard pressed to make them wait much longer. The mirror in his quarters he had covered with a simple dark blue curtain – one of the few decorations in his room – that kept it out of sight, and consequently out of mind.

_Will you contact Queen Nasuada and tell her of the news?_ pleaded Saphira.

Eragon's stomach knotted and his breathing quickened with his heart. He felt anything but prepared to see Nasuada's dark skin and strong, almond-shaped eyes, let alone hear her clear and confident voice chastise his lack of communication. They had parted on understanding terms, although he had left her with a magical conundrum he had refused to participate in solving, and she might now add that to the list of things to berate him about.

Saphira's desperation to share the news with Fírnen was so startlingly strong that Eragon felt himself distraught about not contacting his friends as much as he was about going through with it.

"I will. I don't really have a choice in the matter, if you are to plead with me like this," he stated, resignedly. A sense of relief washed over him as she flicked her tail, pleased.

_Thank you, Eragon. I think this will do you good as well. Perhaps we shall hear news of young Riders soon to be sent to us!_

Growing more and more anxious by his agreement, he bade farewell to Saphira and the egg but maintained their mental connection as he returned to Thrándurin Hall to meet with the Council.

* * *

><p>As he approached the door to his office he saw Blödhgarm outside of it, awaiting his arrival with a polite grin.<p>

"I have heard the news, Eragon. It is a joyous occasion indeed," he commented after performing the traditional elven greeting, to which Eragon responded in kind.

"That it is, friend. And Saphira has convinced me to scry Nasuada later today."

"It is about time!" Blödhgarm said with a chuckle. "I'm sure the Council will be happy to converse with her as well!"

Eragon hesitated. "I'm not certain that's a good idea yet. I'd like to speak with her in private first, so that we may establish our connection and discuss our circumstances on both ends before opening up to a tedious, formalized meeting."

Blödhgarm did not show any sign of disappointment but instead asked, "Shall we postpone the meeting, then? The elder elves may not appreciate the mismanagement you would be displaying, however if you believe it would be best to wait until after you have had adequate time to speak with her, then I will back your decision."

"Yes, I would prefer to avoid talking about the trivialities of what we are to do with the Riders that come to us until after we know when they will be coming to us. As always, I appreciate your support, Blödhgarm-elda," he replied, acknowledging the wolf-like elf's loyalty and support that had helped win him many a debate within the Council.

The elf nodded and Eragon opened the door, stepping inside and down the single step towards the half-circular table where five elves were situated quietly. Standing in the center, Eragon formally acknowledged each of them individually from left to right: Invidia, Renjin, and Tergan left of center; Yaela, Hilna and Blödhgarm on the right. Of the six, Invidia, Tergan, Yaela and Blödhgarm had been his and Saphira's personal guard in Alagaësia. They were the only ones of the nine who accepted his invitation to the Council, and so he had looked to the elders Renjin and Hilna to fill out the Council and provide the wisdom of age and experience that the others - while quite skilled and experienced themselves - lacked in comparison.

As Eragon seated himself in the largest, middle seat at the table, Renjin's thin voice sounded. In the Ancient Language he asked, "What would you speak with us today, Eragon-finiarel?" While his expression betrayed nothing other than calm and respect, the honorific he used suggested he still thought of Eragon as young and inexperienced, whilst acknowledging his promising abilities. Saphira had thought it a sly way to insinuate that he looked down on Eragon, particularly because he remained the only elf to address him as anything other than "Eragon-elda" or "Shadeslayer". Blödhgar speculated that due to his age - which, in years, all had lost count of after four hundred - he felt entitled to the freedom to address those younger than him as such. Still, it was hard to tell, and as he usually presented counterarguments to the topics of discussion, he gave Eragon an unpleasant feeling in his gut every time he thickened the debates.

The other elves looked to Eragon as he responded impassively (in the Ancient Language), "With your understanding I would move to postpone this meeting until this evening, whereupon I shall have several pieces of news to present and discuss." As he waited for the words to settle in, the relatively young, silver-haired Yaela inquired from his immediate left:

"What is it that you anticipate that you cannot share with us now, Eragon-elda?" As she looked at him, her sky blue eyes seemed to sparkle with anticipation.

"I apologize for my temporary secrecy but until I know more regarding the matter I do not believe it would be meaningful to discuss it. Please trust that once I have had time to assess the matter in greater detail we can discuss it freely." His voice was steady but he was not certain his words would be welcome to their pointed ears.

Yaela turned away, her eyes betraying a sense of satisfaction as Hilna, the dark-grey-haired elder female, spoke up:

"While it does not please me to have information withheld, I trust that you have sound reason to do so, and as you have hereby sworn through the Ancient Language that you shall reveal the matter to us at a later time, I believe we can adjourn our meeting now and continue as you see fit tonight." Her gaunt features remained impassive but Eragon knew the statement was sincere, and he silently pledged to thank her for her trust in him. Especially considering he had the power to freely break his spells and oaths in the Ancient Language, although no one in Dragon Haven knew that except him and Saphira.

Renjin did not oppose this, however he adjourned the meeting by flatly stating, "I will accept your terms, Eragon-finiarel. We shall meet again tonight, following our evening meals."

With that, the elves stood and they all exchanged customary pleasantries as they left one by one, Renjin first. Yaela stayed back until only Blödhgarm and Eragon remained as well. Then she turned to Eragon and the excitement that he had seen in her eyes was even more vivid.

"You intend to scry them, don't you?" she asked, a hopeful smile gracing her thin lips.

Eragon was always pleased with her positive, hopeful nature on the rare occasion that she let it shine through. He considered the wisdom of sharing even that much information with her, but she was trustworthy and had already figured out the basics.

"I intend to scry High Queen Nasuada and speak with her about the current circumstances in both our lands," he said.

She appeared pleased, although the reaction was beyond subtle. Her wavy silver hair glistened in the sunlight streaming in from the deep, single window on the right side of the office. She was beautiful, even by elven standards, and Eragon knew that many of her hopes lay with the status of the spellweaver Laufin, who had also been a part of his and Saphira's magical guard in Alagaësia. On the rare occasion they were not actively supporting or protecting the two of them with their fellow spellweavers, Eragon had noticed that Yaela and Laufin had attempted to spend most of their free time together, often just sitting and resting next to one another. What else lay in their relationship he could not tell, as these observations had been made rarely and only briefly in passing. Whatever they shared, he understood Yaela's interest in the idea of contacting Nasuada. As Laufin was protected from scrying in Du Weldenvarden, she hoped to hear news of him through Eragon's contact with the Queen.

She nodded in thanks and departed through the open door, and Blödhgarm smiled coyly as he turned to Eragon as well.

"Is she the only one you intend to speak with today?"

"I haven't yet decided. It may very well depend on the direction our conversation takes."

"You had a troubling dream last night, Eragon. I could sense your sorrow, your fear... after all, I am like a wolf," said the elf. "But do not fear to speak with me about your troubles. I may not be able to understand the capacity of the link between you and Saphira, but I can offer you my ears and my words in exchange for your troubles. You are far too great in both skill and character to be left alone in a time of need." His final words could have meant several things and Eragon was sure all of them were true to an extent.

"I appreciate it, Blödhgarm, but perhaps it can wait at least until I no longer have the impending conversation with the Queen on my mind."

"So be it, Shadeslayer," he nodded, using the less personal title as if to declare a sense of detachment from Eragon's struggles. Blödhgarm left the room, and closed the decorated wooden door behind him, leaving Eragon to himself with the entire afternoon to try to reach Nasuada.

He left his office and once more passed through the illusive door that led to his personal quarters. Having not eaten yet, he grabbed a chunk of stale bread from a travel pack lying on a table near the doorway to the balcony, and he nibbled on it as he meditated. He wished to calm his thoughts so that he may appear to Nasuada as clear-minded and confident as he was expected to be. After half an hour of silence, save for the leaves rustling overhead and the wind gently shifting the trees ever so slightly, he walked up to the curtain concealing the wall next to his fairth, and drew it back carefully, revealing an ornate oval mirror shining his own image back at him. Two round sapphire stones were fitted into the top and bottom of the tall oval, in the golden-trimmed frame. He realized he had forgotten to shave, and so spoke the phrase that removed his stubble before staring deep into the mirror.

With Saphira's tired but joyful humming resonating in the back of his mind, he called forth the words of the scrying variation that would allow him to not only see but converse with the Queen of Alagaësia.

The reflective surface of the glass dulled and the colours swirled until all was black, and then a bright stone wall appeared, some fifteen feet from where Eragon was peering into the room from. Draped from near the top of the wall were the banners of the Varden, interrupted by a small window off to the left. A table stood against the wall underneath the window, and he could see various maps and scrolls and parchments littered across it. He saw a shadow move across the floor in front of the table, and with a gasp, Queen Nasuada strode over towards the mirror.

"Long time no see, Your Majesty," stated Eragon boldly.

Nasuada was visibly shocked by his appearance and his bold initiation, but she recovered quickly and her wide lips curved into a broad smile.

"It has been far too long, Eragon."

* * *

><p><strong>And there you have it, folks. What has come to pass in the first year of Nasuada's reign? What news will she have of Arya and the state of the Dragon Rider Order? How will Eragon react to what he learns?<strong>

**There is much left to write in terms of creating this new part of Eragon's world, but despite this I hope I can pick up the pace within the next two or three chapters. Otherwise this fanfic may take forever to write, as I already intend it to span a considerable amount of time (say, a century or two)...**

**I must attend to more pressing university affairs in the coming week, so I regret to inform you that save for a procrastination-inspired edit, I cannot afford the time to continue writing this week. The absolute earliest I can have a chapter out for you wonderful people is probably late next weekend, so may your swords stay sharp until then!**

**-kms**


	4. Catching Up

**Hello again!**

**I appreciate the comments and reviews from everyone! It's really encouraging to see so many people gripped and waiting for more! Hopefully I can satisfy the increasing demands of your hungry minds... a lot of you are like pros here, so I'll admit I'm a little intimidated by my audience! All the better for me to feel the need to write at my best, I suppose.**

****Anyways, here it is! The result of a far-too-relaxing weekend! Enjoy!****

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Catching Up<strong>

"Or should I call you _Grand Master_ Eragon?" asked Nasuada with a mocking smile.

"That will not be necessary, Your Highness," said Eragon anxiously. He loathed the title that he was expected to bear as head of the Dragon Rider Order. It implied age, wisdom, and experience – three things he felt he most certainly lacked in comparison to many of the others inhabiting Dragon Haven.

"Then, Eragon, I think it only fair that you continue to call me by my given name as well," she said, her smile fading from her dark face as she prepared herself for a long and serious discussion. Upon her short, thick black hair rested a sparkling crown of gold, inlaid with small pebble-sized gems of varying colours – the foremost a large octagonal ruby. A large golden circle hung from each earlobe. She wore a simple but elegant dress of deep purple lined with golden lace, overtop what appeared to be a white gown-like undergarment. Its short sleeves gracefully split open to her bare forearms which were lined with gruesome scars, a testament to her commitment to duty.

"Are you aware that it has been just over a year since you left? No one has heard from you nor anyone with you since left the land I govern. And yet you look well-established… might I ask why we were left to wonder as to your fate for so long?" Her voice was stern and her words deliberate.

Eragon had expected this much, yet he knew he had no answer that would satisfy her. It was increasingly apparent to him that his avoidance had likely caused a great deal of concern and confusion to the people he trusted most. He could try to justify it with their need to construct and settle and organize, however this and any excuses he could come up with melted away like ice before an inferno.

Solemnly, he said, "I apologize, Nasuada. In our efforts to build our new homes here and prepare for the Riders, I did not find it pressing to contact you. It was my belief that your estimations of my powers would allow you some comfort for a time. I believed that until there was something to show for our time and efforts away from Alagaësia, contacting anyone could wait."

He paused for a minute, letting her accept his words. She frowned and cocked an eyebrow. "Eragon, in all your wisdom, I would have expected you to report in sooner, regardless of your progress – what is this new land you have settled in? Even that much information would have appeased many of your friends; myself included." He was relieved to hear her use the word 'friend', for he suddenly feared that his stubbornness had diminished his bonds with some of his most important allies.

"You may not be under my jurisdiction, Eragon, but I do not understand why you would keep yourself from us for so long…" she pressed, her tone hinting that she suspected other reasons.

He looked towards the ground, ashamed at his childishness. "Our farewells were peaceful, but painful. I… could not bring myself to contact anyone about such seemingly small things, for fear that it would be too painful looking out at any of you… to see you so close but know you are so far away… I'm sorry, Nasuada. I wanted the farewells to be as real and final as they seemed at the time. A foolish notion."

She was silent, her lips stretched in a stern frown, but he thought he saw a gleam in her eyes as he mentioned their farewells. "Indeed, but here you are… let us discuss what we have to discuss, I shall guilt you no longer. How far away _are _you, exactly?"

"It was a seven day journey aboard the Talíta before we spotted this island a couple leagues off the coast." As he said this he noticed that the shadows in Nasuada's room were particularly lengthy, as if the sun had only risen an hour ago. It was already nearly afternoon in Dragon Haven. "It's… well, it's perfect. Mountains, forests, plains, hills, beach, some small snowy valleys in the northern mountains and some drier valleys in the southern ones. You have to see it for yourself, really – it's unbelievable! Saphira helped name the island – Dragon Haven." Suddenly relieved, he felt himself beaming broadly as he described it.

"An appropriate name for what I'm sure is a lovely place. Have there been any signs of magic or any hostile beings?" Nasuada asked, sounding strangely tense.

"No, although there are herds of wolves and other common predatory animals… they have yet to bother any of us, however. As for magic, I have not sensed any other presences save for the elves', if that is what you mean," he replied, a sensation of suspiciousness feathering his spine. "How fares the control of magic in Alagaësia?"

She sighed bitterly, appeared relieved to have the opportunity to relate to him recent events. "It has not been an easy year in that regard, Eragon. Without your assistance it has proven an unusual challenge to attempt to place control over the magic-users of Alagaësia. Many of the elves agreed, although there were some who fought the idea very passionately. Do you remember Laufin and Uthinarë?" He nodded, a recollection of two of his former spellweaver guards mixing with the memory of Yaela's pleading eyes. Nasuada continued:

"It was with their aid that we built the Magician's Collective, and they held two of the nine seats of the Collective Council – along with another elf, two dwarves, two humans, an Urgal, and the werecat Yelloweyes. To be blunt, their presence was a good idea that was simply not well received by many magic-users across the continent. There have been confrontations and other incidences that have… kept the land's apparent thirst for blood sated, if you will.

"As soon as the development of the Collective was common knowledge, a rebellious group of particularly tricky magic-users was formed. Laufin left several months ago to confront their leader, a man by the name of Tenga, but… those who were close enough to sense his life energy reported that it was brutally contorted before being snuffed out completely. Not long after, we recovered an unrecognizable elven head from the meeting location…" Nasuada's words slowed, and her brow furrowed in frustration. "It was Laufin's head. We could not find any other remains."

Eragon was silent.

_This can't be. Tenga? That crazy old bat… how could he defeat Laufin? …Could he have discovered it after all his years of searching?_

Nasuada composed herself and resumed: "Not long afterwards there were numerous reports of friendly magic-users going missing nationwide. Not only that, but several of our smaller villages have been sacked by small parties of rebel magic-users. They were all but defenseless, seeing as we have not sought to increase our military forces by much since my coronation." She appeared troubled. "I did not think it necessary to reinforce our borders after peace had been declared so widely. There were more pressing things to worry about… like the people in poverty, and those displaced by the war. We needed homes and homemakers, not home-wreckers."

Eragon remained silent, listening with an increasing sense of dread.

"Perhaps I have been unwise in doing so, as we have suffered many losses to these rebels. Not frequently, of course, but… when they strike, they leave no stone unturned. Laufin was to discuss diplomacy with Tenga, but it is clear they are not in it simply to disband the Collective. Their true objective remains a mystery, however it is clear it involves the use of magic for violence, and they already have a strong following amongst the four Rider races," she finished, heaving a great sigh as she sank into a simple chair behind her.

"What of Carvahall?" Eragon asked, tense.

"They have not attacked any of the northern villages as of yet, although I'm sure your cousin would put up a strong fight – and win – if they did."

"What of Arya and the Riders?"

"The dwarf began her training less than a month ago. Together she and Arya have been able to repel a select few attacks by the rebel magic-users, and it seems as if as long as they are present in my lands we are rarely, if ever, attacked. However, they must continue training so that the dwarf may join you and the Urgal."

"Urgal?" Eragon's face paled. Not only was his first student apparently to be an Urgal, but he was completely unaware of their existence. He was made even more tense and anxious by this revelation, despite the comforting knowledge that his adaptation to the pact with the dragons had worked. "We have received no sign of any Riders here as of yet."

Nasuada's eyes widened slightly, boring into his with worried pupils. "Voghdir… that was his name. He has not arrived at Dragon Haven? Did you not mark the way? He and his dragon left just over a month ago."

Alarms went off in Eragon's mind as he panicked silently. "Saphira and I will search for him immediately." Saphira's consciousness stirred at this, as although she had been listening through Eragon, she was still focused on cradling and singing to her blue-green egg.

"His dragon, Malugin, is a small, sandy-brown-scaled creature that blends in well in the Hadarac Desert… a trait that has come in handy more than once. If he was at all on the right path you should be able to see him against the plains."

Before Eragon could end the conversation, Saphira interrupted his thoughts. _Remember to tell her about the egg… it is important that we tell her as much as possible before we leave for any amount of time._

"One last thing, Nasuada… if you could pass on this information to Arya and _Fírnen_ I would be very thankful." If she wondered why he didn't try to contact them directly, she didn't show it. Instead, she nodded, puzzled. "We will be certain to teleport two more eggs to Ellésmera for distribution to the humans and elves at Arya's discretion. Additionally, Saphira would like _Fírnen_ to know that she has produced a blue-green egg housing a male hatchling, who is destined to hatch for a Rider."

Nasuada's eyes widened once more, this time in excitement. "Is that so? My congratulations to Saphira. I have no doubt that her offspring will be a fierce and handsome hatchling." She smiled, her wide lips parting to show dazzling white teeth for a brief moment. "Now, I shall leave you to your search for Voghdir and Malugin. I trust that you will contact me as soon as you return, so that we may continue our briefings. Be safe, Grand Master." She smiled once more as she spoke his title with far more respect than he felt he deserved.

"Yes, Your Highness. We will find them." He bowed his head respectfully and prepared the words in his mind that would end the scrying spell.

"It was good to see you, Eragon," finished Nasuada.

"Likewise, Nasuada," he responded, with more sincerity than he would have earlier expected. He spoke the words that ended the spell and his own image swirled back into place, staring back at him and mimicking his every action.

He heard leaves rustling in the wind as Saphira flew overhead, and landed on the balcony. _Let us make haste, little one. Our students await us._

After preparing enough equipment to last them what might be another week-long journey, Eragon mentally probed the plateau for Blödhgarm's consciousness. He found the wolf-like elf focusing his mind on a particularly stubborn Eldunarí who had yet to recover from the years of corruption in Galbatorix's service, and had to wait several minutes before the barriers around the elf's mind shifted to allow him in. _Saphira and I must depart the island in search of our first student, who has apparently been missing for some time now._

_Very well. Take care, Shadeslayer. I will deal with the Council and make sure Renjin understands the gravity of the situation. How long will you be away from us for?_

_It is hard to say… it may be a day or it may be two weeks. Whenever we find him we will return immediately. Would you be able to send two of our eggs to Ellésmera?_

_It shall be done. Atra esterní ono thelduin, Eragon Shur'tugal._

* * *

><p>Eragon buckled himself into the saddle atop Saphira's back and he wrapped his arms around the neck spike in front of him as she sprang upright, energized by the events of the morning. She flapped her wings and found a helpful pocket of air which aided their ascent towards what quickly appeared as a small ridge on the horizon.<p>

_An Urgal by the name of Voghdir with a small brown dragon named Malugin… this is quite remarkable, little one. But you do not seem eager to retrieve them,_ spoke Saphira pensively.

The wind blew through his uncovered brown hair and he was distracted as he constructed spells to keep his eyes from watering and the high altitude from chilling him and Saphira. _I remain uncertain how to approach training a young Rider, let alone an Urgal. I do not fear them as I once did, but of the four Rider races would you not agree that they would likely be the most unstable?_

She snorted, small puffs of smoke whistling out of her nose before the wind swept them away in the blink of an eye. _All the better for us to learn how to teach as we teach how to learn. _Satisfied with this statement she snorted once more with amusement.

Eragon was hesitant to agree, but nonetheless inspired by her wisdom. _Then let us find this pair of students before they are lost beyond our reach. Such a loss would not go over well with the residents of __Alagaësia, I'm sure._

The ridge of unpopulated Alagaësia that rose before them gradually began to resemble mountains once more as Dragon Haven shrunk into the distance, its green inner surface barely visible between the browns and whites of the mountains surrounding it. They rose through a thin layer of sparse clouds and could barely make out the shape of the island from there.

Not long after, the river valley the Talíta had traveled through became visible, and Eragon opened his mind. He probed for any signs of the magic he had woven into the air and mountains below one year earlier to mark their trail. A sense of unease formed in his gut as he sensed nothing but a vague hint of magic here or there – tiny remnants of what he knew were his own spells.

_The trail has been nearly washed away… but how? I made sure these spells would be held in place, fed off of the energy of the immovable land below… could this be the work of another magician? I do not recall sensing any beings of magical capabilities on our journey out._

Saphira was silent, hearing his thoughts and only responding with a cautious anxiety.

Eragon could sense the earth and the creatures on and within from a great range, and yet he could not sense anything out of place. As they flew over the river valley in the middle of the mountain range, he thought he felt traces of his spells drifting south and towards the plains that lay to the west of the mountains, however the traces were so faint that he thought he could have been imagining them.

As the sun moved ahead of them and started interfering with their sight, they passed through the mountains and into the small foothills that gently guided the river through them. The plains were as green and untouched as he had last seen them, with only a few rolling hills or small clumps of brush and trees rising out of the long grasses. Once more only the slightest traces of his spells remained over the river, but he continued to notice a hint of displacement towards the south. Feeling as far as he could south with his mind, he continued sensing his magic dispersed incredibly thinly in the air.

_Something is slowly drawing my magic to the south, Saphira. This may have led Voghdir and Malugin astray._

_Then we had best follow the trail, _she said as she veered away from the sun that lay directly ahead of them.

They had only been travelling south for a few minutes when Eragon felt a presence reaching out towards his mind. He quickly barricaded his mind while acknowledging the foreign being, trying to determine its alignment.

The presence felt primitive in nature and yet incredibly knowledgeable – as if a beast had been tamed and then taught the ways of its captors with a strict discipline. Only once Eragon and Saphira had ventured closer for a minute did Eragon realize it was the mind of an Urgal.

_Voghdir?_

The mind retreated slightly in surprised recognition of its given name before responding. Even Voghdir's thoughts sounded akin to the gravelly voices of the Urgals.

…_Grand Master Shadeslayer. It is an honour to finally meet, even in thought prior to flesh._

* * *

><p><strong>Voghdir the first Urgal Rider is found! But where is he, and why has Eragon's magic led him astray? And what of Tenga and his mysterious order of magicians?<strong>

**I had a hard time figuring out how to end this chapter... there were several good spots, but most made it either too short or too long. That is to say, I have a good head start on the next chapter as I wrap up my classes this week! But then... exams and stuff. You know how it goes.**

**Atra esterní ono thelduin, fricäya!**

**-kms**


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